


The one where they have dinner with Iron Man

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (sort of), Awesome Pepper Potts, Awesome Skye | Daisy Johnson, Coulson and Iron Man have a weird non-friendship, Day 1, F/M, Fluffyish, I didn't see Age of Ultron (Shhh), Skoulson RomFest 2k15 REDUX, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Skye's "cosplay" past, Superhero Outfit, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, awkward dinner parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:12:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4387859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Coulson run into an old acquaintance while on a mission, and Coulson finds he's having a hard time defining his relationship with Skye. He also finds himself not caring about that as much as he maybe should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where they have dinner with Iron Man

**Author's Note:**

> Cannot really explain this. Just an idea that popped in my head, loosely fits the "superhero outfit" theme. Very loosely. Somewhat inspired by Clark being a goof at SDCC.

“ _Please_ don’t tell me we’re both going to be staring at our phones this whole trip,” Pepper sighed, putting her cell away. Next to her, her boyfriend/co-worker/former boss/current employee-ish was silent. “Tony…” she said warningly, and aforementioned boyfriend/superhero/billionaire looked up, an innocent look on his face.

“What, me? I can guarantee that I won’t be looking at my device any more than you look at yours,” Tony said, placing his own tablet in his lap. Facing up.

“I wish that was more comforting,” Pepper lamented, looking at the scenery around them. They had just arrived on the island, and of course had a car already waiting when they landed. Not that it was a surprise at that point. It was some ridiculous sportscar, not unlike the many in Tony’s garage. But luckily this one didn’t have any painted flames, so she supposed it could be worse. Pepper focused on the positives: they were here. It was sunny. And warm, and welcoming, and she needed this, _god_ did she need this.

They decided to take a drive around the small beachy town before settling in, taking in the sights. Cynically, she thought it would be good to do that first; scope everything out so no time was wasted just in case they had to leave early to save the company or the planet or something. Looking at the map on her phone-- _Some uses are helpful and productive to the vacation_ \-- Pepper looked at the nearby attractions.

“The rocks around this beach are supposed to be beautiful,” she said, pointing out a nearby beach to Tony, who pushed his sunglasses down his nose to take a look.

“The house has a private beach, that should be pretty impressive. And, you know. _Private_.” Looking down, Pepper saw that even now he was fiddling with something on the screen of his tablet. Rolling her eyes, she pulled her phone away and looked around the square they had parked in. A nearby resort had the place bustling with tourists, who were taking photos and shopping at the different food and souvenir carts. A few other cars had parked around as well, some clearly local, others--

Pepper gasped.

_That’s not…_

Perking up, Tony looked around, trying to see what had cause her outburst.

“You’re right, that girl got a nicer car than me. Unacceptable,” he groused, but took another glance when he saw Pepper go pale. His eyes narrowed, then widened.

“Son of a bitch.”

***

“Do we get a pool?” Skye asked jokingly as they pulled up to the resort. After taking a quick drive to scope the place out, they finally were able to check in.

 _Thank god, my butt fell asleep two hours ago._ Don’t get her wrong, she loved driving Lola. She loved flying Lola even more. But a long trip in a small car was a _long_ trip in a _small_ car. The jet had to drop them off on a nearby island to avoid suspicion, and the flight over to this one hadn’t been short to say the least. Cracking her neck, Skye looked over at Coulson. He raised his eyebrows behind those ridiculous sunglasses, but finally answered her.

“There’s a pool,” he told her, and Skye pumped her fist in the air. Coulson just sighed and unlocked his door. “Wait here, I’ll check in. The parking lot near our rooms might be a bit of a drive.” He stepped out of Lola, looking out over the expansive resort.

“More driving, perfect,” Skye sighed, leaning back in her seat. Coulson smiled at her a bit, removing his glasses.

“I know, it’s been a long morning. But there should be time to take a break before we look for our prospect,” he reassured her, but Skye shook her head.

“Nah, rest can wait. The sooner we find this guy the sooner I can _actually_ relax,” she responded, and Coulson nodded. “Which may or may not include a pool and swim up bar.” Coulson shot her another one of those small, benevolent smiles that said ‘I’m smiling so I don’t have to respond to that,’ and walked toward the door to the lobby. Letting her head fall back on the rest with a _thunk_ , Skye groaned.

Maybe nixing the nap was a bad idea. But no, getting to work right away would be good. It would make this trip _work_ , make it _feel like_ work, not her and Coulson jetting off to the Caribbean for a weekend. _Because it is definitely not that._

It wasn’t her fault their newest potential caterpillar lived on a resort island, and this was the cheapest accommodation they could have in case it took a while to find him or persuade him to join the program. Was it helpful that their trip followed May and Andrew’s week long island adventure where they may or may not have gotten remarried and wouldn’t tell anyone? Not exactly.

 _Exit train of thought, Agent Johnson_ , she told herself, stretching her arms above her head. _Okay, I at least need to get off my ass for two seconds._ Stepping out of the car Skye sighed in relief, especially glad that Coulson wasn’t there when peeled her thighs off of the leather seats. _Sexy, right?_ She couldn’t understand how he was wearing a suit in this weather, but if anyone could, it was Mr. Director man.

Leaning against the door Skye turned her face upwards, absorbing as much of the sun’s rays as she could. As homey as it had become, the Playground was pretty dark, even on sunny days, and being underground meant that the air often felt chilly and damp. This wasn’t a vacation. But there’s no reason to deliberately not enjoy it.

A low whistle brought her out of her sunny state of mind. “Man, I would love to get a look under her hood.”

Rolling her eyes, Skye exhaled slowly-- _Let’s not get in a fist fight, we just arrived_ ,-- before looking at the man who had approached. Scowling, she removed her aviators.

“Beautiful car,” the man clarified, and it took Skye a few seconds to realize why he looked so familiar.

_Holy shit._

“You’re Tony Stark,” she said, staring at, yes, Iron Man, standing in front of her in cargo shorts and a t-shirt.

“You’ve heard of me,” he replied, with a smugness that said ‘Of course you’ve heard of me.’

“Like you’re surprised,” Skye scoffed, tossing her sunglasses into the car. Conceding her point, Stark shrugged.

“Where did you get the car? Not here,” he assumed, jerking his thumb behind him. “I’m pretty sure I asked for the nicest one on the island. So. This is pretty rude.”

 _Why the hell is Iron Man talking to me?_ Skye wasn’t an idiot, and neither was Tony Stark, so what were the odds of him coincidentally approaching her? Sure, he was a well-known automobile buff and normally she’d say yes, Lola was that impressive, but Skye didn’t get to where she was by being a trusting person.

“From home,” she told him, knowing she wasn’t being subtle by being vague. He just nodded, looking around. Skye got a chill. _He doesn’t know about…_ Coulson said none of the Avengers knew he was alive, at least not for sure, right? Lola’s modifications were made after he died, so it’s not like Stark recognized the car. “Can I help you?” she asked, a bit leery as he stepped closer.

 _Am I going to have to punch Iron Man in the nose?_ But he just reached past her, running a hand along the cherry red door.

“Really nice car,” he muttered, literally not paying her the slightest bit of attention. Setting her jaw, Skye prepared to ream him out.

“Don’t--”

“Don’t touch Lola.”

Skye and Stark both turned to face Coulson, who just stood there, smiling amiably. “Please,” he amended, and Skye was surprised to see he actually seemed a bit nervous. Stark looked prepared for the confrontation, if his lack of total surprise was any indication, but he did furrow his brow a bit when his eyes landed on Coulson’s sling.

“So, what, did alien Prince Charming give you a booboo and Fury just overreacted?” Stark asked, sarcasm almost covering the emotion in his voice. Enough that Skye couldn’t tell if it was outright anger, or something else, but she really wished she could disappear into a hole right then. But she couldn’t, so she would help Coulson in whatever way was necessary.

_Even flinging Iron Man into the ocean._

But she wouldn’t do that, especially since a woman who clearly looked shaken approached them. Skye recognized her as Pepper Potts, and her arrival coincided with a terrible look of guilt on Coulson’s face. After greeting her quietly, Coulson turned to Skye and handed her a key card. “I’ll meet you in a bit,” he told her reassuringly, and although part of Skye wanted to stay, she found herself nodding and taking the key.

***

Hearing the beep of the electronic lock, Coulson sighed, opening the door. He felt like he had just aged ten years, and at this point he really didn’t need that. Walking through the entry he was surprised to see his bag on the floor next to the dresser. He’d expected that Skye would leave it in the trunk for him to grab later.

Well, maybe he didn’t _expect_ that, but he would have been happy to carry it up himself. Rubbing a hand over his face Coulson was surprised again, this time by Skye, who was stretched out on the bed. They had gotten connecting rooms, separated by just a door in the middle so they wouldn’t have to go out in the hall and knock in case there was an emergency or something they needed to discuss.

But apparently the keys opened both doors, because he had expected this to be _his_ room. They were mostly equal, of course he wouldn’t expect Skye to take an inferior room, but this one had more windows. An odd preference maybe, but it is what it is.

Seeing her sprawled out on the incredibly luxurious looking bed, Phil resisted the urge to flop onto it beside her in his exhaustion. He was, after all, not _that_ exhausted. Not enough that he could get away with that. Instead, he sat down in the armchair next to the window, putting his feet up on the matching ottoman. It was a compromise.

He didn’t think he’d actually sleep, as tired as he was. His conversation with Tony and Pepper had been too...intense? Terrible? Nice? He honestly couldn’t decide. He obviously felt bad that he had deceived them, especially Pepper whom he had considered a friend. Not one he saw often, but they were definitely friend- _ly_. She also seemed to truly feel sad for Audrey, which was a whole different can of worms.

_But._

But they were happy to see him alive. Despite the deception, and the grieving and the lies, they were genuinely glad that he wasn’t dead. And he was still in SHIELD.

 _‘So you’re the new Fury?’_ Stark had asked him. He gestured at the sling. _‘Is that like, a rite of passage or something?’_ Pepper jabbed him in the ribs and Coulson was reminded of one of the many reasons he’d always liked her.

But Stark’s connection with SHIELD was tenuous at best, worrisome at worst. So they kept it simple, and Coulson made sure not to reveal too much, apart from the whole 'being alive' thing.

 _That and Skye_ , he thought, looking over at her. Yes, he’d had to be pretty open about that as well, so as to not give him the wrong idea. Or reinforce the wrong idea he’d already had. Suffice to say the words “Afterlife crisis” and “newer model” were used, and Coulson was reminded of one of the many reasons he hadn’t always been a fan of Stark.

But he was civil, and explained that Skye had a very important role in SHIELD, and was already one of his most invaluable agents.

Well. He may have been more colorful than that.

It was odd, really. He’d been given varying versions of ‘the talk,’ from everyone to Gonzales to May to Andrew to Ian Quinn for God’s sake. ‘The Talk,’ AKA the ‘Skye Talk,’ AKA ‘We Need to Talk About Your Skye Problem,’ and here he was, being given a blank slate. These people knew nothing of Skye, just of who he used to be. He had a chance to represent her in the barest, most basic professional terms. They had no preconceived notions of favoritism or a “problematic closeness” between them, so why, why did he break out words like “invaluable” and “brilliant” and whatever else he said?

It could have been so simple. _‘That was Skye, she is a SHIELD agent. We are on a mission.’_

It was unfair of him, really. In his mind he was talking her up, making sure people knew just how great she was. But then he realized--he always realized too late-- that his emphatic praise of Skye --maybe coupled with some...dramatic behavior over her absences--might reflect poorly on her. Make people think that he was just being biased or, worse, influenced by her.

So he couldn’t really blame himself, not when it was the system or prejudices people had that made their relationship come off as...inappropriate.

What was he supposed to do? Stop worrying about her, encouraging her, giving her responsibilities he knew she was ready for just because people might take it the wrong way? Was he just supposed to introduce her to others as a SHIELD agent, and leave out all of the qualities that made her an exceptional one?

He enthusiastically talked up each member of his team, really, so why did people seem to latch onto the idea that Skye was somehow placed above everyone else in his eyes?

 _You know why_ , an annoying voice in his head (that sounded oddly like Hunter) whispered.

Was Skye a qualified, valuable agent? Of course.

Was she also incredibly important to him, in a way that might not exactly be work appropriate?

Rather than answer that question, Coulson tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

It really had been a long day. And, because of his need to make things right with Pepper and Stark, it would be a long night too.

***

“Coulson... _Coulson_!” Skye whispered, trying to wake Coulson up without jostling or startling him. She had fallen asleep without meaning to, and the sun had nearly set. _Which means the day was wasted_ , she thought grumpily. _Not that this guy did any better._ Skye wasn’t sure how long his talk with Tony and Pepper went, but she had woken up and nearly fallen out of the bed when she saw Coulson sitting upright by the window, dead asleep.

Of course, neither of them had been getting sleep lately, and finding the recruit wasn’t urgent (yet) so now was a good a time as any to catch up on some shut eye. Especially given the interesting experience he must have had. Skye didn’t know Pepper, and she had slightly more than passing knowledge about Tony Stark, but the looks on their faces…

_They must have actually cared about him._

Not that it was difficult to care about Coulson, she knew that better than anyone. But it wasn’t just some random guy they barely knew dying.

...And then showing up on a tropical island. Maybe not quite the same as finding out your long-assumed dead parents are actually alive, but still probably shocking nonetheless. It seemed like they had liked him, and not that she wished for Coulson to be buddy-buddy with Tony Stark, but she at least hoped they didn’t hate him for the secrecy. Coulson didn’t need that.

“Everything okay?” Coulson’s sleepy but still concerned voice snapped her out of it, and Skye realized she had probably (definitely) been staring.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m kind of out of it,” she shook her head, gesturing toward the window. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I kind of slept for hours. Maybe days. What year is it?”

Coulson not-quite-smiled, stretching his arms above his head, at which point Skye decided she really shouldn’t get caught staring again and should make herself busy. Rubbing the excess sleep from her eyes she walked over to her bag to grab her toiletries. “How did, ah- your talk go?” She asked, pulling out her toothbrush and toothpaste. The bathroom was amazing, complete with two sinks. Definitely better than the roach motels she’d spent some time in.

“It was fine, actually,” Coulson replied. His voice carried from the room, so Skye decided to quickly brush her teeth so she didn’t feel so much like someone who just woke up.

“That’s good,” she answered him, trying not to sound like she had a mouth full of toothpaste.

“Yeah,” he said. And Skye must have succeeded because when he surprised her by standing in the doorway, _he_ looked surprised at what she was doing. He seemed to brush it off though. “It’s unfortunate they had to be misled, but…” He shrugged, looking a bit down.

“It wasn’t your call,” Skye mumbled, before frowning at herself. _Gross, Skye_. But Coulson didn’t seem to mind, moving up to the other sink and splashing a bit of water on his face. _Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to wake up_. While he wiped a washcloth over his eyes she discreetly spit in the sink.

“But they seem okay, and actually…” he trailed off, and Skye finished brushing, looking at him curiously.

“What?” She grabbed her mouthwash next as Coulson stepped out of the bathroom. Making funny faces at herself in the mirror as she swished, she nearly choked when he walked back in with his own toothbrush and toothpaste.

 _His and hers sinks_...she thought, trying not to let the domesticity of the scene get to her. Coulson put toothpaste on his brush, which was weirdly impressive one-handed, but before he started he looked at her a bit sheepishly.

“They want to have dinner,” he told her, and Skye’s eyes widened.

“Oh. That’s good, right? Are you going to go?” Rifling through her bag, she grabbed some cleanser and began washing her face. _What? It’s not like I’m just going to abandon my routine because he’s invaded it with his toothbrush and bare feet._ Yes, she’d noticed. Even in the air conditioned space the room was on the warm side, so Coulson had lost a couple layers before or during his nap. Skye had no doubt they were folded neatly somewhere. But if he had time to do that, why not take the time to move to the other bed? It wasn’t far, why conk out on the surely less comfortable chair?

“Yeah,” he told her, before spitting in the sink and rinsing his mouth out. “They invited you too,” Coulson said in an incredibly neutral voice, so Skye wasn’t sure how to react.

“Oh,” she said lamely, scrubbing the cleanser from her face. “Do you...want me to?” Would he rather be alone? Did he want support?

“Only if you want to,” he reassured her, but once Skye got to look at him, her eyes narrowed.

“You don’t want to face them alone,” she surmised, and Coulson quirked his mouth.

“Not really, no. They’re perfectly fine, you’ll like Pepper, it’s just…”

“It’s a lot,” Skye said, shrugging. “Last time you saw these people, you were a different person.” Coulson’s brow furrowed slightly. “I mean, that's what it-- it was a long time ago, and SHIELD was still SHIELD, and--”

“It’s fine, Skye,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “You’re not wrong.” He raised an eyebrow. “But you’re sure you want to come? I don’t blame you if you don’t.”

Choosing to ignore how warm her shoulder felt even after he’d pulled away, Skye tilted her head. “Really? You think I’m going to miss an opportunity to sit down to dinner with Iron Man?” Coulson shrugged, bemused. “Uh, I’m not. He’s not my favorite Avenger or anything, not by a long shot, but I’ll take what I can get.” Heading out of the bathroom, Skye following him, Coulson picked up his bag and dropped in on the bed so he could dig through it.

“Sorry, I think we may have reached our ‘visitors from Asgard’ quota for the year,” Coulson said, and Skye looked at him curiously.

“You’re assuming Thor is my favorite?”

Coulson’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t press, pulling a couple of clothing items out of his bag. _Moving on_. “So what’s the dress code here? I assume he’s paying?”

“They have a beach house a few miles away, I’d rather avoid the slew of paparazzi that would undoubtedly follow him around town.” Looking her over in a way Skye in-no-way misconstrued, Coulson shrugged. “What you’re wearing now is fine,” he told her, heading to the other room.

Skye looked down at her shorts and t-shirt. “Uh, you’re aware I just slept in this, right?” But he was already closing the door.

“Okaaay.” Skye began to dig through her bag for something that would work. Glancing to the side, she saw Coulson’s own bag still sitting on the bed.

***

“So, you’re the, what? Assistant? Director? Assistant Director?” Stark asked Skye, who raised an eyebrow but didn’t give away any other signs of irritation.

“SHIELD agent,” she responded smoothly, taking a sip of her wine. _Dammit, that’s good_. She supposed she could deal with the company (and palpable awkwardness) if the food and wine were this good. “So is there a chef hiding back there or did you just get take out from one of the nice restaurants in town, Mrs. Doubtfire style?”

Tony quirked his mouth, unoffended. To be fair, Skye wasn’t even sure it was meant to be an insult. She was mostly curious.

“I like to maintain an air of mystery,” he responded, and she rolled her eyes. “You look familiar,” he told her, and Skye shrugged.

“Just got one of those faces I guess,” she replied. Stark muttered something that sounded like ' _yeah, okay_ ,' and took a sip from his own glass.

“What do you think they’re doing back there?” He asked her, nodding in the direction of the room Pepper and Coulson had gone into. Skye thought about it.

“I believe she mentioned 'showing him some works of art you don’t appreciate properly.'”

That got a snort out of him, and Skye held back a smirk. He was trying to get under her skin, but quickly finding out it was no easy task.

“You’re funny,” he said, not making it sound like a compliment or an insult. “She’s funny,” he repeated as Coulson and Pepper re-entered the room.

“Is she?” Coulson asked, taking his seat next to Skye. She shot him a look, rolling her eyes at his responding smile.

 _He acts so innocent_. It was weird, seeing Coulson like this. He was essentially fluctuating between what she had dubbed the Three Coulsons. There was ‘Mission Coulson,’ who was all snark and insincerity, Regular Coulson, the one she knew and lo--knew. And then there was _Phil_. That’s what Pepper called him. Phil. Phil, who liked art and laughed with an odd easiness and yet still seemed detached. Maybe all of them were Real Coulson, but to Skye, it was jarring to see him switch between them all.

A quiet ‘ _beep_ ’ called her back to the table, where she realized Tony had been pointing his tablet at her.

“Uh, can I help you?”

“Tony, that’s rude,” Pepper chastised. “And creepy, what are you doing?”

Coulson was silent, but a slight wrinkle between his eyebrows showed he wasn’t quite amused either. Or maybe just confused.

“Hm, me? Nothing,” he muttered, swiping across the screen then placing the device on a counter top behind him. “Proper documentation of house guests is a basic requirement, really. I’m surprised more people don’t do it.”

After sighing, Pepper smiled and turned to Skye. “So, Skye, what do you do within SHIELD?”

Resisting the urge to send Coulson a look, Skye smiled back. Before arriving they had agreed to hold back a good deal of information, including but not limited to Skye’s powers, their mission, her lineage and everything about the Inhumans in general. What Skye neglected to mention was that she would prefer to keep some of her other skills under wraps as well.

“Well, I’m a field agent, so I go on missions, do research, kick bad guy butt, the usual,” she responded. Pepper nodded.

“That’s great, and Phil said you’re good with computers too?”

 _Dammit_.

“Ah, yeah, I’m okay,” she waved it off, and next to her Coulson frowned.

“Really?” Stark seemed to hone in on the discrepancy, leaning forward. “Just okay?”

Skye tried not to grit her teeth. “Yeah, I mean, I’m not trying to be modest or anything. But I am sitting at Tony Stark’s dinner table, so you can’t exactly blame me for not wanting to brag.” She leaned back. “I mean, I wouldn’t hang out with Hawkeye and be like, ‘hey you know what I’m really swell at? Archery.’ I mean, really, I’m not. Just an example,” she trailed off, taking another sip of wine. Coulson smiled though, and Pepper did too. Stark, miraculously, seemed to grow bored and move on.

“Right. So Agent, what happened to your wing?”

Silence descended upon the table, and Skye’s head darted up to look at Coulson. But he just smiled in that inscrutable, confusing and yeah, attractive in a weird ‘I have this annoying accountant I’d kind of like to throw on the floor’ way. (She’d spent more than a bit of time trying to pin down that face. ‘ _Pin down,’ shut up Skye._ )

“I grabbed an alien object that was turning my hand to stone so a member of my team chopped it off with a fire axe before it could spread to the rest of my body,” he said calmly, before taking a bite of his dinner. Stark just kind of stared, while Pepper laid a hand on Coulson’s arm that didn’t _bother_ Skye, but it was interesting. Another beeping noise disrupted the quiet, and Tony grabbed the tablet from the table.

“Aha, I see,” he said quietly. “I knew I recognized you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Skye said. _Shit shit shit._

“Oh, well let me refresh your memory. You’ll have to forgive me for not remembering earlier, your hair is a bit different. And, well, your fashion sense.” He turned the tablet to face a frowning Coulson and a mortified Skye.

 _Yup, that’s me alright_. Well, it was her, once upon a time. All said and done it wasn’t a terrible picture, but the context was embarrassing. What had a certain nazi douchebag called her so long ago? A _‘sweaty cosplay girl?_ ’ Skye wasn’t sure where the ‘sweaty’ part came from though, that was some gross detail on his part. She looked over to Coulson, who was staring at the picture still. _Oh god._

Craning her neck to look at the screen, Pepper scoffed. “Why do you have her picture from…” she looked at the time stamp. “Two years ago.”

“Facial recognition software,” Tony answered smoothly, pulling the device back to him and doing something to the screen.

“Using what database? You keep all of your security footage outside the tower dating back _two years_?” Pepper wasn’t buying it, and neither was Skye to be honest. While he no doubt had the storage, it was a waste of even his expansive resources to keep that much high quality footage around.

_Unless you particularly enjoy moments like these._

“Oh, no, not all of it, just that containing persons of interest.” He swiped sideways on the screen and showed them another still, this time of Skye speaking to him inside the tower, a couple other similarly dressed girls off to the side.

She had to admit though, her costume looked good, definitely the best of the group. And it clearly did its job. She was taking the small victories right now, preferring not to focus on Coulson possibly losing all respect for her right now.

“Oh, of _interest_ ,” Pepper replied, “of course.” Catching Skye’s eye, Pepper blanched and waved her hand. “I’m not-- what you did was fine, not that you did anything. I mean--” she turned a bit red. “Your outfit was great, you look--I’m more concerned about this one’s habit of holding onto photos of pretty guests without their knowledge,” she said dangerously, giving Stark a serious side eye.

“I never said it was because she’s beautiful.” That earned him a number of raised eyebrows, and he rolled his eyes. “This is from my list of known security threats.” Skye wasn’t sure whether she should feel relieved or caught.

“Security threats,” Coulson repeated, sounding weirdly amused. Stark scrolled through another set of stills, this time of Skye exiting a closed door, looking around, then darting down the hallway. She was alone.

“Shortly after this one ducked out of the tour, someone tried to hack JARVIS. By the time we discovered the intruder and locked everything down, she disappeared, no trace.” He looked up at Skye. “Nice to see you again, by the way. How did you get out of there?”

Skye tilted her head. “I took the freight elevator and dropped the burner phone I used for the hack into subway grate.”

“You took the _elevator_?” He sighed. “And here I thought you were some cat burglar who rappelled down the side of the building. Disappointing.”

“How did you know you’d get in?”

Skye turned to Coulson, who apparently was still capable of speech. And maybe not totally horrified by her.

“You weren’t in on it?” Stark asked.

“Skye wasn’t SHIELD at the time,” Coulson told him, and Pepper looked impressed.

“How did you know you would get in?” She asked.

“I knew he had a weakness I could exploit,” Skye explained, and Coulson nodded.

“Attractive women in tight outfits?” He surmised, and Skye’s eyebrows shot up. _How much wine has he had?_ Coulson did seem...looser than usual?

“Ah, or as we call it in our household, ‘the Rushman method,’” Tony said, which nearly got an eye roll out of both Pepper _and_ Coulson. So there was a story she’d need later.

“Your ego,” Skye clarified. “My costume was the best one there.”

Tony held up a finger. “If I recall correctly, the programming on your arc reactor and repulsors was flawed,” he pointed out. Skye nodded.

“They lit unevenly. I knew, and I also knew that you wouldn’t be able to resist correcting my mistake,” she explained. “Bingo, I’m in.” Pepper laughed, pouring more wine in her glass, and Skye snuck a look at Coulson. He was smiling like she had just made his day. Maybe his week. Skye felt heat creep up on her face and she smiled back before quickly looking back at Tony and Pepper.

“Well I’m glad you guys can bond over your shared experiences of inconveniencing me, but care to explain why you were hacking into my systems? If not for SHIELD?” He didn’t seem pissed, but definitely curious. And maybe a little pissed he had been played.

“Not really, no,” Skye answered.

“I could find out,” he told her, waving his tablet around. “You know I’m capable of that.”

“I’m not sure you are,” Skye countered, and just as Stark opened his mouth to respond, Pepper spoke up.

“Tony, help me with dessert?” She asked nicely, but with an edge that made it clear it wasn’t a question. Grateful for the subject change, Skye smiled at Pepper, who winked. Tony didn’t put up an argument, but could be heard muttering to Pepper as they left the room.

Turning to Coulson Skye raised her eyebrows. “So I should probably tell you I’m not entirely sure that he wouldn't be able to find anything on me,” she admitted, quirking her mouth. “Is it still considered a bluff if you’re like, 75 percent sure?”

Expecting some kind of retort, Skye was surprised to see a small smile on Coulson’s face. “In that case you’ll just have to hack in again,” he replied, and Skye stared a bit disbelievingly.

“ _Try_ to hack in again, I think you mean,” she corrected, and he shrugged. _Seriously how much wine has he had?_ He wasn’t drunk, but definitely seemed more relaxed than usual. Painkillers? Nostalgia? If anything, she thought that dinner with Tony Stark might make him more uneasy. So maybe it was the alcohol? “Have you been sneaking Nips in bathroom or something?” Coulson’s brow furrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, those little bottles of booze? Perfect for hiding in your clothes for concerts, or expensive bars, or potentially awkward dinner parties?” It did not look like she was making herself very clear. “You seem...chill. Surprisingly so,” Skye told him.

“You were expecting a more dramatic evening?” He asked her, raising an eyebrow. Skye sighed, leaning back in her chair.

“No. Well, maybe a thrown wine glass or two. Something,” she said playfully.

“It’s strange, but nice,” Coulson admitted quietly. Skye nodded. There were barbs traded occasionally, Stark definitely dishing the bulk of them, but overall the night was calm, relaxed. Friendly.

“Must help that it’s low pressure too,” Skye added, and Coulson tilted his head in confusion.

“I mean,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially and leaned in closer. She looked back toward the kitchen. “No offense to our generous host but, it’s not like he’s _your_ favorite Avenger either, right?” Coulson’s eyes seemed to twinkle, his still head inclined toward hers so he could hear. “Obviously dinner with Captain America, that’s going to be a little more high stakes--”

The sound of glass shattering caused both of them to leap out of their chairs, looking toward the noise.

 _Shit,_ Skye thought automatically, freezing. _Did I just_ … That didn’t make sense though, she hadn’t lost control in weeks.

There was a small pile of glass on the floor a few feet away from Stark, who looked unfazed. Pepper was standing there as well, horror written all over her face.

“What--” She began, threading a hand through her hair. Skye felt pity for the woman, but was also curious what it took for her to stay with Tony Stark. She was so smart and accomplished, there had to be some benefit, right?

“I believe I heard a request for some glass throwing?” Tony asked nonchalantly, as Skye and Coulson relaxed their respective stance a bit. “Now, what was this about me not being your favorite Avenger?” Skye looked over at Coulson, who simply shrugged. “That’s hurtful.”

***

Closing the door and leaning against it, Skye sighed. _Ditto_ , Coulson thought, walking into the hotel room. Like he said, the night had been pleasant, but long, and more than a little exhausting at times. Sitting down on the bed, he reached down to unlace his shoes, a task he luckily only needed one hand for.

Skye walked further into the room, looking over the bottle of wine Stark had given them as a “Goodbye/Congrats on not being dead” present.

“Is it any good?” Coulson asked, slipping his feet out of his shoes and sighing quietly. He reached up to undo his tie, but realized he wasn’t wearing one. And at some point, it appeared, he had unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt.

“Couldn’t tell ya,” Skye replied, holding it up under the lamp. “The bottle looks pretty old, and it was given to us by a bajillionaire, so…”

While Phil didn’t doubt Stark’s resources, his taste was more questionable. “I’m sure Pepper chose it,” he said, and Skye seemed to pick up on his train of thought.

“Yeah, it’s probably amazing,” she said, putting it down on the desk. “What’s their deal, anyway?” She headed to the bathroom but left the door open, popping her head out and holding a glass of water. “Do you…?” She asked, holding up the glass. He nodded and she disappeared again, filling a second glass before returning. He could question her choice in going for the tap water, but had already gotten his fair share of snob jokes on the trip.

“Their ‘deal?’” He asked, after thanking her for the water. Skye hopped up and sat on the desk across from him.

“Yeah,” she said, combing a hand through her bangs tiredly. Her eyes drifted closed for a beat and Coulson realized he was probably staring too much, but he was too tired/tipsy to really care. “Pepper is awesome, and Stark is just--” She trailed off, and Coulson nodded. Tony Stark wasn’t cruel or vindictive, but his recklessness had proven--and would likely continue-- to be a problem. The ego didn’t exactly help his case either.

Coulson just shrugged, pretending to be neutral. Skye chose not to drop it.

“He must have a _huge_ \--”

“ _Okay_ ,” Phil, stuttered, holding up a hand. “Skye. Not necessary,” he mumbled, not wanting that image in his mind.

“Sorry,” Skye said, “there has to be something. He’s basically a destructive man child. And you know if _I’m_ calling someone destructive…” Skye chuckled, but Coulson felt a bit uneasy. It worried him that Skye might still feel bad about her abilities, self-conscious of how capable she was at destroying things. “Oh, don’t make that face,” Skye groaned, snapping Coulson out of it.

He really must have had too much to drink, he thinks. If she can read him that easily.

_Stop kidding yourself._

When _couldn’t_ Skye read him easily? Coulson took a gulp of his water, willing himself to sober up regardless. They were in a hotel room after all, and the way Skye sat on that desk put him right at eye level with her thighs--he took another swig of water, like it was a cheap whiskey.

“Didn’t mean to make a face,” Coulson admitted, and Skye seemed to accept it, but still looked thoughtful. He would do well not to pity her for her powers, he thought. She didn’t want it or need it. Moving to take another sip, Phil paused.

_What?_

In his hand the glass didn’t move, but felt _alive_? For just a split second. Then the sound came.

Gaping a bit, Coulson listened to the sound coming from the glass in his hand. _That’s new._ He almost wanted to laugh at how amazing it was, how he had no idea she was even capable of-- a discordant tone joined in, and Phil’s eyes darted up to Skye as she winced.

“Sorry,” she said, as both glasses ceased to sing. Reaching down she sipped a bit of water from her glass, before placing it back on the desk. A beat, then: harmony.

“Wow,” Coulson sighed, shaking his head lightly. “That’s--when did you--?” Skye giggled quietly, obviously enjoying his dumbstruck reaction. He had seen Skye’s powers in action, both the destructive forces she could create and the more nuanced motions. But this was a whole different level.

“My mom showed me,” she admitted quietly, and Coulson immediately felt a stab of guilt for bringing it up. Skye seemed to notice. “No, it’s okay. I don’t know, it’s kind of a reminder that I _did_ get to see the good side of her, maybe. What she was like before.”

He sensed that Skye was putting a pin in the discussion as the glasses quieted down. After all, there was only so much you could do with two, and Coulson wondered briefly if they could locate a few more. _The neighbors would love that_.

The quiet was nice, but upon seeing Skye yawn Coulson felt a bit of panic. Was he terrible for wanting to keep her up, keep the conversation going? It was back to business tomorrow and while he loved working in the field with Skye, and was passionate about their project, this felt... _nice_.

“We’ll have to get a suit for you soon, you know,” he said off-handedly, and Skye tilted her head in confusion.

“What, like yours?”

Well _that_ was not something he needed to picture right then.

“Uh,” he said ever-so-eloquently, “not quite. I was thinking more along the lines of something to wear during missions, something that we could design with your powers in mind.”

Skye’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you proposing that I wear a ‘supersuit?’” She seemed right on the edge of laughter, her incredulity keeping her from completely falling off.

“They do serve a purpose you know,” Coulson said, only a little bit offended. “They’re not just there to look pretty.” If he’d had another drink or two he may have confessed his role in Captain America’s first uniform back on the job, but he would keep that under wraps for now. Because, let’s face it, as practical as that was, it was also a treat. It was a bit of a novelty for him, and it seemed like if he was going to sell her on this idea, he needed to play up the practical aspects.

Skye stood, her hand on her chin thoughtfully. Phil wondered if he should stand too, but stayed put as she began to pace leisurely.

“Would it look like Bobbi’s?” She asked, and Coulson shrugged.

“It could. It would be your suit, so how it looks would really be up to you,” he explained, leaning back on his hand a bit. “As long as all the practical functions are included,” he clarified. Because, you know. Usefulness.

“So it could look however I want? Any design?”

“As long as it’s not Iron Man.”

Skye stopped pacing.

Coulson was about to apologize, or clarify, or make it clear it was just a joke when something soft --but heavy-- hit him in the back of the head with a loud _whump_. Recovering, he looked behind him and saw one of the large hotel pillows sitting on the bed innocently.

“Did you just--” _Use your powers to start a pillow fight?_ He didn’t even want to say it out loud.

“Did you just make fun of my Iron Man outfit? My _very_ successful, _incredibly_ well-made Iron Man outfit?” She put her hands on her hips dangerously.

“...No?”

This time Phil managed to duck as another pillow flew over his head and into Skye’s arms. _How many are back there?_ He barely had time to react as Skye lunged, sweeping the pillow in a wide motion that probably would have got him right in the chest if he didn’t have the reflexes. _And if she was actually trying to hit me._ As he leaned further back his hand came into contact with the first pillow, conveniently forgotten right behind his back.

“Skye, I apologize, but this is--” He cut himself off, swinging the pillow in an arc, whacking Skye in the side of the hip. Her shock lasted just for a moment before she pounced, knocking him back as she straddled his hips and began to beat him mercilessly with the cushion.

“You think--you’re so--funny,” she said, punctuating her pauses with somewhat-light whacks about his head.

For a darkly funny moment Coulson felt a bit of deja vu. It looked like Skye had inherited a few things from Cal besides her kind heart and big brown eyes.

“Skye, Skye, sorry!” He pleaded, holding up his own pillow to defend himself from the blows. With a start he realized he had been laughing, probably louder than he should have been. He was not alone, as Skye finally backed off, placing the pillow on his stomach and resting her hands on top of it while she laughed hysterically.

Eventually the laughter died down, and Skye reached up to wipe a tear from her eye, before she froze. Coulson’s eyes widened, and he worried that she had become uncomfortable, or that _he_ was noticeably more 'uncomfortable' than he thought. But her gaze was leveled at his chest, where his arm lay nestled in its sling.

“Shit,”  Skye muttered, moving to stand up. Coulson stopped her, placing a hand on her waist.

“Skye, it’s fine,” he told her, not wanting her to think she had hurt him or made him feel badly about his handicap. “Maybe a little unfair for a fight,” he admitted, smiling. Skye snorted and looked away, but didn’t move from her spot.

Their mildly inappropriate fight had moved into _terribly_ inappropriate territory, but Coulson was having a hard time trying to care. Skye didn’t seem bothered either, looking down at him now, thoughtful.

She removed the pillow from his stomach and tossed to the floor, before carefully leaning down until her hands rested on either side of his head. Phil’s lips parted in surprise a bit, but he simply moved his hand from Skye’s waist to the swell of her hip encouragingly.

Taking his cue, Skye leaned down and pressed her lips against his, surprisingly innocent considering their precarious position. He pushed back gently, and when Skye’s mouth opened over his, “innocent” went right out the window to join “appropriate.” Coulson made a pathetic little sighing noise he was sure Skye noticed, moving his hand up to tangle in her hair. Skye seemed to approve, if the way she ground down against him was any indication. Coulson groaned loudly, knowing that his discomfort was probably _very_ apparent now.

Removing his tongue from her mouth -- _When did that get there?_ \-- Coulson leaned his head back a bit, and Skye took the hint, pulling away slightly. He pressed one more kiss against her lips, then another, before moving his hand to cup her cheek. Looking her in the eye, Coulson marveled at how gorgeous she was, especially up close. He sighed as she smiled, moving her hands up to play with his collar.

“Skye,” he started, and she looked up from the tie to his face, curious. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” He could feel Skye’s fingers tighten instinctively over the fabric of his collar, and he wondered if he was being too mean. _And if she’ll throttle me for it._

“I loved the Iron Man costume.” Skye immediately bit the inside of her cheek, looking away in irritation. Coulson smiled, unable to help himself. “The outfit itself was great, you looked,” he shook his head, sighing, noting how yup, she was probably going to strangle him wasn’t she? “It’s just the man himself, you know? Not my favo--” He was then cut off with a pillow to the face.

“Do you still have the outfit?”

His answer was another _very deserved_ pillow to the face.

 

 


End file.
